A Swig That Burns the Whole Way Down
by TwistingMoonbeam
Summary: Morty is graduating from high school, and Rick is pissed about his grad party. R&R!
1. Part 1

**A Swig That Burns the Whole Way Down**

**Part 1**

**XxX**

_Shit._

Rick knew he wasn't one for keeping track of time. When he left Beth, he hadn't done the math to figure out she was a fully-fledged adult when he decided to rear his wrinkly old mug back into her life, and certainly hadn't calculated she'd transform into the woman she was today: unhappily married, wasting her PhD away as a heart surgeon for _horses_ (a career Rick, despite his liking of Beth, couldn't help but fucking _laugh_ at sometimes), and caring for two kids (one conceived when Beth was seventeen, and one everyone thought was gonna be dumber than dirt). His little pigtail-sporting girl was a woman now—a process Rick had been too caught up in his own shit to notice.

But this: oh _hell_, did this take the case. This was something Rick hadn't been anticipating—and quite frankly, something for which he hadn't been prepared.

Morty was graduating from high school.

Now Rick gave Morty credit—he was _far _smarter than people knew. Even his parents were frequently surprised when intelligence sang from Morty's mouth like a choir of fricking angels. But _graduating from high school_? It was a concept so obtuse, so unimaginable, that Rick would baffle himself whenever he thought about it.

And maybe it was his own fault: he _hadn't _thought about it. He hadn't undergone the proper preparations. He hadn't even considered it a real thing. And yet, there he was, hiding in the garage to avoid Beth and Jerry's stupid smiles of excitement and pride as they decorated for Morty's graduation party.

Annoyingly, it pissed Rick off. Morty was eighteen years old, and they were deciding that _now _was the time to shower him with praise? Rick had witnessed Morty do some pretty fuckin' awesome shit on their adventures over the years, but God forbid they only show him off when some geezer on the school board handed Morty some fake-ass scroll of paper for following some dumb rules for four years!

Rick had gone to Morty's graduation, and it had been as underwhelming as Summer's. And _hot_, Rick recalled, heaving a box of scrap metal onto his work desk. Sick of Beth and Jerry's sniveling, he'd chosen to sit beside Summer, who wasn't much of an improvement.

"I remember when I graduated," she'd sighed, fixing her ponytail. "Practice for the ceremony wasn't fun, but it was all worth it to have that moment in the spotlight. Oh, I'm so happy for Morty!"

"I still don't geUUGHHt it," commented Rick dryly, taking a swig from his flask. "We sit around for h-hours just to watch MoOORRGHHty walk across a wet football field? The—the whole thing takes fifteen d-damn seconds."

"Grandpa Rick!" Summer complained, narrowing her eyes. "This is a big deal for Morty! You know how much he struggled in school. This is his big moment for everything to pay off!"

"WhooUGHHpie," Rick muttered. "He survived a b-bureaucratic system that consisted of some loOOGGHsers with degrees to 'teach' telling him information h-he forgot five minutes later and th-then testing him on it. Lather, r-rinse, repeat four years, and now we're goUGHHHnna celebrate it."

Summer raised an eyebrow. "I got you an air horn to use when they call Morty's name."

This, for some reason, pacified Rick, and kept him going until hours later, when it was finally Morty's turn. The second Principal Vagina (Rick almost lost it when he added "no relation") finished saying Morty's name, it was time.

"Mortimer Smith—"

"WOOOOOOO!" Rick burst from his seat in the bleachers and pounded his air horn, the shrill sound making the people around him wince. "FUCK YEAH! GO MORTY! THAT'S MY GLIB GLOB MORTY, AW RIIIIIGHT!"

Summer joined in, her air horn in harmony with Rick's, and cheered with him (minus all the cussing). Jerry and Beth sent exasperated side-glares their way, but were too busy waving to Morty down on the football field to really voice their irritation.

Rick smirked as he slapped his hands together to clean them. That part hadn't been so bad.

"Dad?" Beth poked her head in, wearing a green sundress and cheap diamond earrings—probably Jerry's work. "The party's about to start. Are you gonna join?"

Was he?

"Okay, B-Beth," his mouth said. "Be right th-there."

"Okay." Beth smiled and disappeared into the house.

Rick sat at his work desk and scowled. Why had he said that? No, he didn't want to join the stupid party! What was the point? So Morty graduated from high school. Big whoop. So _what _if he got into the tiny university a couple of towns over. What was the big deal? It was just more of the same, more keeping in line, more shoving nonsense down Morty's ear, more rules to follow, more consequences if he didn't. Why celebrate what was basically just Level 2 of a really bad video game? Why commend Morty for getting into a school that was more expensive than everything Rick owned? What was the _point_, God damn it?

Because Morty had _done _it. On his own.

Rick would never forget his first impression of Morty: _what a screw-up_, Rick had thought with bile in his throat. Summer wasn't half bad—why had Beth kept trying for a winner when all she'd gotten was scraped off the bottom of the barrel? Morty was too nervous for Rick's tastes; far too squishy, not enough gusto, did he even _have _a backbone? Admittedly, those qualities had been the things that led to Rick to involving Morty in his experiments, but that wasn't because he had _liked _Morty. He had just _needed _Morty to protect himself. Morty had been nothing more than a shield.

But along the way, something changed.

Morty, Rick had discovered, was solid. Underneath all that nervous stuttering and hand wringing was a pretty all right kid. A kid that could be pushed and prodded and smacked and assaulted and downright _destroyed _and not ever give up. Oh, sure, Morty had wanted to—Rick needed all his fingers and toes to count off how many times Morty had threatened to quit on Rick. But he never had. He stayed with school, he stayed with his family, and now he was staying with life.

Which meant he couldn't stay with Rick.

Rick's nimble fingers found his portal gun. Morty was growing up. He was making something of himself, something beyond the dimwitted sidekick to Rick's dangerous experiments. He was majoring in education at the university, with an emphasis on science, and minoring in Special Ed. Morty's opinion of school had shifted drastically during his years: he appreciated it now, and wanted to help those who were struggling like he had. He was contributing to society. He was taking what he needed from Rick and moving on.

Morty wasn't going to need Rick anymore, but Rick sure as hell needed Morty.

And not just for the experiments, Rick realized fiercely. He needed Morty for their _Ball Fondlers _marathons. For their inside jokes. For their lazy Saturday afternoon tinkering sessions, when Rick would teach Morty about tools and chemistry and the secrets of the universe he had picked up during his alternate reality traveling. For his acceptance of all things Rick. For his _liking _of all things Rick.

Maybe it would be better if he didn't join the party. That dimension of young people who worshiped the ground he stood on deserved a second trip.

"Rick?"

And then there he was, eighteen year old Morty, opening the garage door and letting the light in. He was still a short stack, reaching Rick's chin, but it was still weird to actually notice Morty in his peripherals instead of overlooking him. He still sported what Rick dubbed the "fuzzy peach do," the tuft of curls covering most of his head and thick as carpeting. Morty wore a nerdy yellow button up and black dress pants.

His big grin was fading fast. "R-Rick? Are you okay?" The squeak in his voice was giving way to the voice of a man.

"Morty…" Rick cleared his throat. He couldn't think of more to say.

"Are you—are you comin' to the party? Mom got that dip you like so much." Morty smiled slightly. "I mean, sure, I had to t-talk her into gettin' it, but you…you know, it doesn't change the dip at all."

"You're a dip, MoUUGHHrty," Rick spat.

Morty frowned. "Rick?"

"You—you think some stupid dip's gonna be wh-what gets me into your stupid party?" said Rick. "Your…your stupid celebration of getting out of one waste of time and g-getting to go into a-a-another? Real nice tr-try, Morty. Real nice try."

"Rick, why're you—I don't believe you," Morty cried, balling his hands into fists. "I know—I know you don't like school, Rick, but this is important to me. I thought—I would think th-that freakin' means something to you."

"Oh, God—whatever, Morty!" Rick yelled, firing his portal gun. "Enjoy your stupid p-party. See if I—see if I care. 'Cause I don't."

"Rick, what—Rick!"

Rick only had one foot in the portal before Morty tackled him, sending them both tumbling through the doorway before it closed with a flash.


	2. Part 2

**A Swig That Burns the Whole Way Down**

**Part 2**

**XxX**

"Oh, Goddamn it, Morty!"

Rick seethed at his grandson, who was blinking blearily up at the streetlamps. They'd landed harshly on graveled blacktop, and Rick had a cut on his thumb that stung like a _bitch_.

"Where are we?" spluttered Morty.

"Wouldn't you like to kn-know," Rick snapped. He checked the coordinates set into his portal gun and groaned.

"What?" Morty demanded.

"We're not where I wanted to be." Rick checked and frowned. "Oh, goody. C-201. Exactly where I wanted to spend my night."

"R-Rick! We've—we've gotta get back!" Morty said, eyes wide. "Mom'll kill me if I'm not a-at my own grad party!"

"Me, me, me," Rick mocked, fishing a screwdriver out from his coat pocket.

"Rick, you're—you're being a j-jerk on p-purpose!" Morty said, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's y-your deal?"

"I don't haUUGHHve a deal," Rick replied. "You're—you're just a frustrating kid. Always—always have been, and always w-will be."

"H-how is my graduation from high school _frustrating_?" Morty yelled. Then he squinted at something over Rick's shoulder. "Is that…our h-house?"  
Rick raised a brow. It _was _their house, but it was nowhere near as nice as the one from their universe. It was on the cusp of disrepair, with the garage door hanging half open, the gutter overflowing with dirty leaves, a couple of windows broken, and the walls darkened with age. A storm cloud seemed to hover over the house, making it look almost haunted.

"What the hell happened?" Morty asked.

Rick, too, was curious. "Only one way to find out."

The two approached the house, trudging through the overgrown grass and bushels of weeds. Morty went to knock on the front door, but Rick rolled his eyes and turned the knob.

The house was dusty, but judging from the pizza and Chinese takeout boxes that littered the tables, someone was definitely living there. Rick and Morty moved through the eerily familiar home, taking note of the flickering lamps and musty air.

There was a sharp clang that rattled the house.

"Garage," Rick grunted.

Tiptoeing down the hall, they came to the door that led into the garage. Rick was about to open it when the knob started twisting on its own.

"_Shit_," Rick hissed. He pushed Morty into the coat closet, ran in, and closed the door, leaving it ajar.

A tall, lean figure emerged from the garage, coughing and waving away smoke. "Ugh, da-damnit…Goddamn calibr-bration issues…I'll—I'll work on that l-later…"

Rick and Morty's jaws dropped simultaneously.

C-201 Morty must have been at least forty. He wore a lab coat, no different from the one Rick wore all the time, and baggy black pants. His face was red and wrinkly, the bags under his eyes purpling like bruises. There was a bald spot on the back of his head, shining like oil under the receding lights.

"Oh, my God…" Morty choked.

"God_damn_ Morty," Rick whispered. "That bald spot's s-separating y-your peach fuzz like Moses separated the d-damn red sea."

"_Rick_!" Morty hissed.

"Wh-what? You _know _you were thinkin' it."

C-201 Morty wandered into the kitchen, yanked open the refrigerator, and removed a bottle of whisky. As he chugged, Rick went rigid.

"Shit," he whispered. Déjà vu sucked, but this was _way _worse.

C-201 Morty wiped his mouth and burped, staggering into the hall. A goofy, drunk grin spread across his face as he pulled a crumpled up photo out of his coat pocket.

"Ch-cheers to you, RUUGHHick," he slurred, bumping into the wall as he took a swig. "I—I miss y-ya everyday, man…sucks you k-kicked the bucket so sooUGHn…I was on-only like, what, fifteen? Sure does s-suck…but hey…" He dropped the photo. "'Least n-now we have m-more in common!"

When C-201 had returned to the garage, Rick slowly opened the closet door. Morty was trembling behind him.

Silent, Rick picked up the photo C-201 Morty had dropped. It depicted Rick and fourteen year old Morty taking a selfie in front of the hovercraft, looking happier than Rick had felt in days.

Without a word, Rick and Morty left the house and went back out into the street. There were no stars that night, the sky endless and black.

"God," Morty gasped. "What—what _happened _to me?"

"L-looks like we're in a re-reality where I died when y-you were st-still a teen," Rick said, emotionless.

"But—where're my pa-parents? Where's Summer? I was—I was—"

"You were me," Rick filled in. "Y-you were me."

Morty frowned and wrung his hands. "I guess…you weren't there to help me, s-so I kinda went off th-the deep end."

"_I _wasn't there?" Rick demanded, incredulous. "Morty, that should've been a good th-thing! But…y-you still fucking lost all your marbles."

"A good thing? Rick, I don't—"

"Morty—Morty, don't you g-get it?" Rick yelled. "You don't need m-me! Morty, I'm—I'm your weirdo gr-grandpa that sits in the Goddamn garage all day and makes d-death traps! You've—you've almost _died _before 'cause of me! Once…once you leave f-for school, you won't n-need me. You're gr-growing up and doin' stuff on your own. You don't need me," he repeated, clarifying and panting. "So what's even th-the point?"

Morty was so speechless, his mouth formed a perfect little "o" as he gaped as his grandpa. "I…I don't _need _you?"

"Goddamn it, Morty, _yes_, weren't y-you fucking—"

"_I don't need you_?" Morty continued, outraged. "Rick—lemme tell you, Rick, you've said some cr-cr-_crazy _stuff before, but…God!" he said suddenly, gazing at Rick with shock. "You _really _d-don't think I n-need you?"

Rick kept his glare locked on his grandson.

"Rick—of _course _I need you!" shouted Morty, throwing his hands into the air. "How in G-God's name could y-you think I don't need you? Rick, _you _were the one who motivated m-me through h-high school. _You _were the one who h-helped me gain the c-confidence I needed to even bother applying to c-college! _You've _been the one who's helped m-me through these f-four, long awful years!"

Rick didn't reply.

"And y-ya know what? _You're _the one who in-inspired me to even want to _want _to become a science teacher!" Morty went on. "B-because you've taught me s-so much, and you've be-been there for me wh-when no else has. Rick—you're, l-like, my best friend. So what if I'm…if I'm busier the next couple years? I'll always make t-time for you and our a-adventures! Rick, th-the reason C-201 Morty is like that is because C-201 Rick _wasn't _there for him, wasn't there to help him and en-encourage him, l-like you do for m-me!"

"Morty—" Rick tried.

"You're one of th-the best things to ever h-happen to me," Morty said quietly, scrubbing at his eyes. "And I'm—I'm always gonna need you. You mean a lot. Please…please c-come to my grad party?"

Rick's thin lips flattened. He fired up the portal gun, thumbed in the coordinates, and shot.

They stepped through, and the portal closed cleanly behind them. Morty ran a hand through his hair and looked to Rick, hope in his eyes.

"Rick?"

Rick put the portal gun on his work desk and grinned slightly at his grandson, fixing his lab coat. "How much d-dip didja say your mom got?"

Morty's face lit up. "Tons. Probably t-too much."

"T-typical of your mom. Okay, show me th-the way, grad boy."

Morty scrambled for the door, beaming like an idiot.

_Oh, what the hell? _Rick thought, stepping into the hall, the buzz of guests reaching him instantly. _Anything for this kid. _

Reaching the kitchen, Rick's eyes widened when he saw how many people were really here. He bit back a groan: _Jerry's _side of the family had come.

_I'm gonna need to refill my flask, though. _


End file.
